


ephemeral;

by DefiantDreams



Series: Alternate Universe Challenge [6]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Everyone skates except for Viktor, M/M, Magical Tattoos, Memory Alteration, Sochi Olympics, Urban Fantasy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-26 16:19:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12561320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DefiantDreams/pseuds/DefiantDreams
Summary: Yuuri only wanted to get a tattoo as a reminder of how far he'd come, but instead, all it served to do was to remind him of how much he's lost. Viktor was just supposed to be his tattoo artist, until he wasn't, and then was again.::The Olympics is all about stories. The only thing Viktor wants is to remember theirs, and yet all Yuuri wants is to forget.





	ephemeral;

**Author's Note:**

> look at warnings at the end if ur sensitive!!! spoilers though.
> 
> non-spoiler warnings: semi-explicit description of tattooing process and a bit of blood, but it's not that bad
> 
> i somehow got [sleepyfortress](https://sleepyfortress.tumblr.com) as my artist for this big bang and!!!! i'm so honored, their work is amazing and i super super love all their art. i'll link and add their art once they post it, but please do check out the rest of their YOI art bcos it's all so beautiful. i was honestly soooo lazy to get this started but their work is inspiring!

art by [sleepyfortress](http://sleepyfortress.tumblr.com/post/166943145458/art-for-gia-comeatmes-beautiful-fic-for)

NOW 

“But Joseph! I love you! Please--”

_CLICK!_

“--a perfect scrambled egg--”

_CLICK!_

“For free shipping, call--”

_CLICK!_

“Representing Japan, Katsuki Yuuri!”

Viktor doesn't know what it is that makes him pause. His thumb hovers over the button on the remote and he frowns. Was it the Olympics already? A part of him must have known though, because Viktor remembers Chris inviting him to watch. He must have forgotten. Why had he forgotten?

"Katsuki's theme for this season is On My Love, and he will be skating to Vocalise, composed by Rachmaninoff."

Viktor watches as the skater takes his place in the center of the rink. Katsuki looks at the camera for a moment and there’s something about his _eyes_ that makes Viktor sit up straight, muscles tensing out of nowhere. His lips part as he stares at the figure on screen. There's an expression of utmost grief on Katsuki’s face that's only barely hidden away by the stubborn set of his features.

Something sings inside of Viktor.

 _Don't look away_ , it whispers, and Viktor can't even if he wants to. He's struck frozen.

Katsuki turns away from the camera and raises his hands. In full view of everyone, he presses a soft kiss to the inside of his wrist, and then turns it outwards to hold his hands above his head.

Viktor doesn't hear the next words of the announcer. All he can see is the tattoo on Yuuri's wrist--a dark blue snowflake that’s stark against his pale skin.

It’s exactly the same as Viktor’s.

_Who are you?_

 

BEFORE 

 

Yuuri has always been the kind of person to need physical proof in order to believe in something. He needs to see it to believe it, needs to see it to know it’s real.

The first time Yuuri ever placed in Japan’s Junior Nationals, not even the scoreboard displaying his name on top was enough to satisfy him or to confirm the reality of his win. Yuuri doesn’t remember much after the scores were announced and his own name shoot up to number one. All he remembers is the thick haze of wariness and confusion amidst the loud shouts and cheers of his family and Aunt Minako.

He had thought it was a dream back then, and Yuuri? Yuuri was far too used to waking up from perfect dreams to nothing.

His first place finish only sunk in later when Yuuri was stumbling to the top of the podium and he was finally holding the medal— _his_ medal!—in his hands.

Everything came into sharp focus then, the world narrowing into the piece of flimsy plastic he was holding. It could have been made out of the most precious jewels with the way he was desperately clutching on to it, the way Yuuri couldn’t bear the thought of even letting go.

 _I really won_ , he thought to himself. _I’m actually here._

For the first time that day, Yuuri let himself smile, his eyes glittering bright with awe. The camera flashes picked up, and Yuuri looked up at the photographers, only now realizing they were there. He held up his medal and gave them a shy smile.

He brought home that medal and his parents proudly displayed it front and center in the main dining room. For a while, it was proof of Yuuri’s success, of his ability, that maybe Yuuri wasn’t just a dime a dozen figure skater.

At 16 turning 17 years old, it had been enough to propel him through international ranks in the Grand Prix qualifiers, in Worlds. He was skating on top of a high, garnering bronzes and silvers and golds with a record-breaking free skate during a GPF Qualifier. He couldn’t match up next to Christophe Giacometti that year, only placing third and second next to him during the competitions they were together, but there were whispers that the 18-year-old skater was moving up to the Seniors bracket next season. Then there were the other whispers, ones of Yuuri being the unexpected dark horse who had seemingly come out of nowhere.

So much potential, they said, unaware of the hours and days and nights Yuuri spent before each competition dreading everything in sleepless fits, and anxiety-ridden attacks. No one knew of his weakness and Yuuri was determined to keep it that way.

The year Chris had moved up, everyone had expected Yuuri to take the gold, but he had only managed a silver in both the Grand Prix Final and Worlds. It wasn’t enough, not when Yuuri ached and wanted gold so badly that silver seemed to taunt him. Yuuri wasn’t good enough or mentally strong enough to get gold in any competition that actually mattered and his own painful mediocrity was choking him.

But somehow, it had been enough for Coach Celestino to make him an offer.

At 18 years old, Yuuri packed his bags and moved to cold, lonely Detroit.

  


*

 

It wasn’t uncommon for Olympians to get Olympic tattoos. Yuuri could probably name five prominent Olympians tattooed with the rings somewhere on their bodies, and that was saying something because Yuuri didn’t follow much sports aside from figure skating.

However, it was decidedly less common for winter sport athletes, much less figure skaters, to get Olympic tattoos.

In fact, the only figure skater that Yuuri knew had an Olympic tattoo was Chris. Chris, figure skating’s sex icon, leader of the quad race, owner of inarguably the most beautiful spins in the men’s division, and the reason why figure skating was back in the public eye. Christophe Giacometti, three time consecutive World Champion, who was currently doing a body shot off Yuuri’s stomach.

He leaned away to bite into a slice of lime, face scrunching up before he let out a loud whoop. The other people they were with cheered loudly and wolf-whistled. At any other time, Yuuri would have been embarrassed at the attention on him, yet right now, Yuuri didn’t even have the capacity to feel an ounce of shame with how drunk he was.

Chris wiped his mouth and grinned down at him. As he held out his hand to Yuuri, his loose shirt somehow stayed on his shoulders despite Chris’ many activities. Yuuri was starting to suspect that Chris had used sticking charms to get it to stay in place. Yuuri took his hand, and promptly stumbled as Chris hauled him up from the table with little to no preamble.

Chris steadied him and laughed before he pulled away to take off his shirt with a mumbled curse. Yuuri didn’t blame him, he was honestly surprised that Chris had lasted that long with his clothes on. He was infamous for losing his clothes during a night out, and Yuuri and the other skaters have been victim to his stripping far too many times.

He found his suspicions confirmed though when the shoulder part of his shirt stayed on despite Chris’ tugs. Chris glared at it slightly, and it was only with the appearance of his boyfriend that his glare disappeared. Yuuri watched as Matthieu rubbed a hand over Chris’ shoulders, tiny sparks erupting from the contact before the shirt finally slipped off, easy as breathing.

“If you were going to take it off anyway, I wouldn’t have charmed it in the first place,” Chris’ boyfriend drawled and Chris laughed.

Chris turned around and bent over to pick up his phone that had fallen off the table Yuuri was just on, and it was then that Yuuri saw it.

Yuuri’s eyes widened in wonder before he reached down to brush the tips of his fingers on the tattoo at the small of Chris’ back, a tramp stamp of the Olympic rings.

Chris turned towards him, green eyes blinking up at him in surprise before they quickly turned half-lidded, almost cat-like in how Chris peered up at him.

“Yuuri,” Chris said, voice velvet smooth and Yuuri quickly snatched his hand back. He covered his mouth in horror, ready to apologize for the inappropriate touching, before Chris beat him to it, his low tone seductive, “If you wanted to touch my ass, you could have just asked.”

“No!” Yuuri squeaked, furiously shaking his hands in front of him. He glanced at Matthieu, his eyes wide and apologetic, yet Matthieu only shook his head in laughter. Chris straightened up and he slipped his phone back into his pocket, a distinctly amused look on his face as he regarded Yuuri.

“I was just,” Yuuri made a vague motion to the direction of Chris’ back, “looking at your tattoo.”

Chris’ face cleared up, and he smirked as he twisted his body, the tattoo in full view of Yuuri once more. “I got it for Sochi.”

He looked up at Yuuri and tilted his head. “You want?” The suggestion in his tone was enough to make Yuuri somewhat suspicious that he wasn’t just talking about the tattoo, but he didn’t really care enough to dwell on it.

“Yes!” he said excitedly, eyes bright as he clapped his hands together. Chris looked surprised for a moment, clearly caught off guard. He glanced at Matthieu, his eyes wide and almost uncertain before Yuuri reached out to grab his shoulder.

“I’ve been—I’ve been thinking of getting an Olympic tattoo, ya know?” He said, grasping on. “As proof that I actually made it to the Olympics, and that I’m good enough and actually okay at skating.”

“Actually _okay_?” Chris cut off, eyebrows furrowing before he crowded closer to grasp Yuuri’s cheeks with both his hands, “Yuuri! You’re one of the best skaters in the world!”

Yuuri waved his hands dismissively. “You don’t need to flatter me,” he slurred, hand flopping. Chris gave him a bemused look.

“Anyway,” Yuuri shook his head. “I want one.” His eyes gleamed, and Chris took his hands away from Yuuri’s face to press them to his own flushed cheeks, a mischievous grin playing on his lips.

“Let’s go then!”

Matthieu sighed loudly, but the two of them simply ignored him. Yuuri beamed, an expression of utmost joy filling his features. “Right now? Really? You’d do that for me?”

“Yes!” Chris giggled and Yuuri couldn’t help but match him, giggling too while the two of them stood in the center of the hotel room, one half-dressed and both of them clearly intoxicated.

“You’re so nice,” Yuuri gushed and Chris nodded seriously.

“I am!”

“But—but where?” Yuuri asked worriedly, and the grin that was on Chris’ face only grew.

“Oooooh, don’t worry, sweetheart. I know just the guy.”

The next morning, Yuuri wouldn’t remember sneaking out of the American skater’s hotel room where the post-banquet party had taken place. He wouldn’t remember Chris shoving him into a taxi, the two of them giggling and drunk and Matthieu slipping in next to Chris with fond exasperation until it pulled up next to a door in the middle of France, that somehow connected to a modest tattoo parlor in Russia. He wouldn’t remember Chris pushing open the door and then blinding light, the sound of bells and the smell of ozone.

The only thing that Yuuri would remember the next morning was a set of bright blue eyes and hair the color of the medal on Yuuri’s neck.

 

*

 

“Seriously Chris, I’m a _professional_.”

“Professional! Really!”

“There’s a reason why respectable tattoo artists don’t ink up people who are drunk off their--”

Yuuri groaned, and the voice cut itself off. He opened his eyes, squinting slightly into the thankfully dim lights of the room he was in--a room Yuuri didn’t recognize at all, and was definitely not his hotel room.

He sat up with a jolt and immediately regretted his decision when it sent a pang of pain through his head. With a whimper, he clutched at his temple and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Here.”

Yuuri peeked through his fingers and graciously accepted the glass of water being passed to him. He took a slow sip, head still pounding relentlessly every time Yuuri did as much as to blink.

“Do you take pain relievers for hangovers or no?” A voice asked, and Yuuri forced himself to fully open both his eyes. He blinked. Standing in front of him was Chris, and beside him, another man with silver hair who looked achingly familiar.

Yuuri squinted, taking a moment to wonder just where his glasses were before his gaze tracked over what he could see. The man beside Chris had a full sleeve of tattoos down his left arm, an intricate, curling design with details that were lost to Yuuri’s poor eyesight. While he was wearing casual clothes, he looked remarkably well put together, an easy confidence to the way he stood that Yuuri wished he could copy. Chris, on the other hand, was still wearing the clothes from last night. Loose shirt, slim fit pants, and hair a mess, but somehow, Chris pulled it off.

The man cleared his throat and Yuuri realized he had forgotten to answer. “Oh, yes. Thank you, I’d appreciate that.”

Yuuri watched as he walked away, leaving Chris and Yuuri in what Yuuri would guess to be the guest room. He put down the glass of water on the bedside table and turned to face Chris.

“Where are we?” Yuuri hissed to Chris and Chris smiled sheepishly. He was wearing his glasses now, Yuuri just realized, round frames that made Chris look mature in a different kind of way than his usual brand.

“Don’t freak out but, well, we’re in Russia.”

“Russia?” Yuuri screeched, ignoring the pounding in his head. He stared at Chris, his eyes wide and jaw agape. “How did we get all the way to Russia from France?”

Chris shrugged. “Magic.”

Yuuri straightened up at that and looked around him. He wondered if he could see the magic at work right now, deep into the foundation of the place they were in and permeating through everything. He wondered if it was translocation magic, connecting runes, or maybe even Multiple Entrance Doorways.

“Your glasses, by the way.” Chris chuckled as he stuck out his hand and Yuuri took them gingerly, slipping it onto his face. He chewed on his bottom lip nervously, fingers twisting at the sheets beneath him as he tried to think of a polite way to ask what was on his mind.

“How are we going back to France? My flight’s today.” He finally said, wincing slightly. He should probably look for his phone actually, he was bound to have some texts from his coach wondering where he was.

“The same way we got here,” Chris smirked, sending him a teasing wink that did nothing to quell the nerves bubbling underneath his skin. Chris laughed lowly at his expression, the smirk easing into a gentle, soothing smile. “The front door. Don’t worry about it. Matthieu already went ahead to let Coach know we were here. I know what I’m doing.”

“Do you, really?”

Yuuri looked up at that, and his breath caught in his throat as he was finally able to see Chris’ friend in HD.

Oh no.

He was hot, and Yuuri was so _so_ gay.

“Nice tats,” he blurted out, brain to mouth filter fully gone as he stared at the tattoo that peeked from his shirt, curling up into his collarbone. “Where’d you get them done?”

A smile. “I did some myself. The rest, well, I don’t want you going to my competitors, do I?” He winked at Yuuri, voice rich and teasing. Yuuri reddened, a flustered, panicked squeak escaping him.

“You really shouldn’t have come to get a tattoo while drunk off your ass,” he said bluntly and smiled brightly. Yuuri winced. There was no judgement in his voice, just fact, as if Yuuri should have known better--and well, he should have.

Chris laughed and said something in a language that Yuuri didn’t understand. He thought it was English at first, and his eyebrows furrowed as he tried to translate it in his head. It was only when Chris’ friend replied in the same tongue that Yuuri realized it was French.

“Yuuri, this is Viktor,” said Chris, “Excuse him for being a dick right now.”

Yuuri reddened slightly and he ducked his head to nod.

He peeked up through his eyelashes to see Viktor assessing him quietly, finger pressed to his lips.

“Do you still want to get that tattoo?”

Like most bad decisions that Yuuri has made in his 21 years of life, he answered impulsively and without thinking.

“Yes. Yes I do.”

Viktor beamed, heart-shaped and bright. “Come back when you’re not hungover then.”

 

*

 

“So,” Yuuri started, and Viktor looked up through his fringe, sending Yuuri a smile that immediately sent his heart racing. He swallowed and pushed on, “Do you think I can get something to relieve the pain somewhat?”

Viktor pursed his lips thoughtfully, humming slightly as he pressed a finger to his lips.

“Alcohol?” Yuuri joked weakly, laughing nervously and Viktor immediately shook his head.

“I don’t tattoo drunk people just because they can’t really consent and will regret it. It’s because alcohol in your blood makes it thinner and you’ll bleed more. The colors won’t come through as nice either. Magic does the same too.”

“Oh,” Yuuri murmured.

Viktor smiled at him and tilted his head. “There are numbing creams, of course, but those will wear off in 45 minutes to an hour. Depending how big your rings are, and if you want them in color, the session will probably take longer than that.”

“Oh,” Yuuri repeated, unsure of what to say in response to that.

Viktor hummed, peering at him thoughtfully as he said, “I suspect though that you’ll have a higher pain tolerance than most people because of your skating.”

“Oh.” Yuuri licked his lips as he nodded slowly, vaguely aware that maybe he should say something other than ‘Oh’. What could he even say? Viktor looked unfazed, if a little amused.

“Have you thought about where you want to get it done?” Viktor asked, dropping his paper on the table in front of him. He leaned in closer to Yuuri, propping his chin up with his hand and staring at him expectantly with his beautiful blue eyes. Yuuri swallowed. He leaned away slightly, the proximity a little too much for him, and he _knew_ that wasn’t disappointment in Viktor’s eyes as Yuuri leaned away, but Yuuri could hope, couldn’t he?

“I, well,” Yuuri hedged, because honestly he had. He stayed up last night just thinking of where to put it on his body, had thoroughly researched on the least painful parts to get a tattoo, and the possible complications of getting one that the websites were practically burned at the back of Yuuri’s eyes. But now, Yuuri was doubting all the decisions he had made in a sleepless rush at 3 AM.

“Or, options at least,” Viktor pushed patiently and Yuuri chewed on the inside of his cheek.

“Somewhere I can see it,” he started hesitantly. He ducked his head and rubbed at the collar of his shirt self-consciously. “And I want it small. Just black, no color.”

Yuuri had of course, already asked his parents’ permission for the tattoo. He didn’t know when he was planning to come back, but the thought of never being able to soak in the onsen again because of a tiny tattoo was horrifying. His compromise, of course, was exactly that. Small and no color, something that could be easily hidden and nothing that could be mistaken as yakuza tattoos.

(Maybe Yuuri had spent far too long in Detroit that the concept of tattoos didn’t matter as much to him as before. Most of the people back home _did_ have a different view on tattoos, but Yuuri needed this permanent physical reminder far too much.)

“I was thinking here?” Yuuri suggested, although it sounded more like a question than he intended. He pointed at his bicep, glancing down at it before he looked back up at Viktor. He figured it made sense. It was one of the places that supposedly hurt least. He had originally considered his calf, due to how he could hide it in the hot springs and he was a figure skater, and figure skaters relied on well, their legs, but that’s exactly why Yuuri didn’t want to risk pain in his legs because he saw that it took 2 months for the inner dermis to actually heal and Yuuri couldn’t--

“Alright,” Viktor said, and smiled at him gently. Yuuri relaxed into his seat and tried to smile back. He didn’t know why he hadn’t expected Viktor to approve of his choice, and he shouldn’t care if Viktor liked his decision on tattoo placement anyway.

“I’ll see you next week then?” Viktor asked and Yuuri quickly nodded, squirming slightly at the feeling of Viktor’s eyes on him.

“See you.”

 

*

 

The whole week, Yuuri couldn’t stop thinking about him.

 

*

 

Yuuri is no stranger to anxiety. The urge to run away from his problems is nothing new, and Yuuri was sure that he could garner more Olympic medals in that than in figure skating. In fact, now, standing in front of the counter with the the necessary paperwork in front of him, Yuuri very much felt like running away.

He gulped, hands shaking slightly and the pen trembling in his grip.

Viktor’s eyebrows raised as he glanced at the pen in concern and Yuuri quickly slapped a hand over his writing hand.

“Sorry,” he squeaked, “I’m just nervous.”

“Do you really want a tattoo?” Viktor asked carefully. Immediately, Yuuri nodded.

“Yes, I’ve always wanted one but I always made excuses and,” he stopped, reddening slightly as he looked down to stare at his hands. “No more excuses.” He was determined, jaw set as he nodded at Viktor.

Viktor’s lips quirked, his eyes lighting up slightly as he appraised Yuuri. He put his hand on his hip, immediately drawing Yuuri’s attention towards the half-sleeve that wrapped around his bicep. Viktor’s muscles flexed slightly and Yuuri could feel his mouth go dry with want. Unbidden, a thought of licking the tattoo that decorated his skin went through Yuuri’s mind and he furiously pushed it away.

“What exactly are you afraid of?” Viktor asked and Yuuri had to physically drag his eyes away from Viktor’s arm. He bit the inside of his bottom lip as Viktor waited for his answer.

“Pain?” He answered quietly, a little uncertain and Viktor hummed thoughtfully.

“I’m not going to lie to you, it will hurt,” Viktor said slowly, “But it’ll dull. The first minute is the hardest, but after awhile it’ll fade to the background. I have music if you want to distract yourself, and gum for you to chew on.” He smiled at Yuuri and shrugged, “I’ll do my best to make it as comfortable for you as possible.”

Yuuri’s face heated up and he nodded, ducking his head shyly. “Thank you.”

Viktor’s calm assurance didn’t fully remove the nerves that still wracked Yuuri’s body, but it definitely helped. It helped enough that before Yuuri even knew it, he was signing his name on the form in front of him.

  
  
  
  
  


The sensation of Viktor’s gentle hands on his bicep was oddly intimate, and Yuuri felt exposed. He looked away, but it did nothing to help that Viktor could look up and probably see how red Yuuri’s face was.

Viktor pulled the swab away, leaving only the cold sensation on Yuuri’s skin. He bit his lip as he looked up at Viktor. He looked so focused, so set, and Yuuri felt hot at all that attention directed at him even if it was just at his arm.

“I’m going to be putting the stencil transfer now,” Viktor said, a tiny furrow on his forehead as he wet Yuuri’s bicep with water. Yuuri nodded silently and waited as Viktor placed the special thermal paper with the Olympic rings printed on it on his skin. Only a few moments later, Viktor took the paper away, leaving only a purple-ish blue likeness of the rings on smooth skin.

“Placement’s okay? Are you sure about it?” Viktor asked, and even through the surgical mask he was wearing, Yuuri could spot the tiny grin pulling his lips upwards. Yuuri flushed slightly before he nodded.

“Alright,” Viktor grinned and clapped his hands together, the sound of his gloves smacking loudly. He turned away from Yuuri for a moment, and Yuuri watched as Viktor started fiddling with the tattoo machine. Fiddling wasn’t quite an accurate word to describe what Viktor was doing; the other man clearly knew what to do.

With steady hands, Viktor transferred black ink into tiny cups. He placed it down beside him and then picked up a pouch. A loud _rip!_ sounded through the shop as Viktor opened it, arms flexing again before he pulled out the needles and tubes from inside. Gnawing on his bottom lip, Yuuri watched him place it into the machine and tried not to stare too long at Viktor’s arms.

“Okay, I’m just going to put this ointment to make the needle go smoother,” Viktor murmured, pulling out a tiny jar. Yuuri trembled slightly and nodded, his eyes fixed on the tattoo gun. He glanced at his bicep as Viktor rubbed in the ointment, fingers gentle. Yuuri almost missed his warmth when he pulled away.

“Ready?” Viktor asked, holding up the gun. Yuuri paled and nodded slightly, sinking deeper into the plush leather seat. Hurriedly, he popped in the gum that Viktor had given him into his mouth, letting the mint wash over his tongue. He put on the earphones that Viktor had lent him, and pressed play.

Yuuri took in a deep breath, and tried to relax.

Emphasis on tried.

The first touch of the tattoo gun on his skin was a shock, and it was nothing like getting an injection or getting his blood drawn.

The only way Yuuri could describe how it felt was to compare it to being scratched by Chris’ devil cat. Repeatedly. In the same place. It felt like he was getting sliced open, the burning sensation overwhelming as the needles passed through his skin.

He grit his teeth on the gum, chewing it hard and slow as his eyes slipped shut. The buzz of the gun wasn’t loud through the music, although it was almost irritating as it droned on but Viktor seemed unbothered. Yuuri glanced at him, taking note of the laser focus of Viktor on his bicep. He pulled it away for a moment to wipe at the ink and Yuuri hissed at the surprising twinge of pain.

Viktor was right however. A few minutes in, the pain of the needles sliding through his skin had dulled to a background pain, Yuuri’s focus taken up by the music and the gum in his mouth. Yuuri’s muscles loosened, and he wasn’t even aware of how high strung he was until he could actually relax.

Viktor pulled the gun away again, and then asked something that Yuuri couldn’t hear through the music. He pulled one bud away with his free hand and sheepishly said, “Sorry, what was that?”

“What made you want to get a tattoo? Is it just in commemoration for Sochi?” Viktor repeated patiently, glancing up at him momentarily before looking back down at his arm to put the tattoo gun back to Yuuri’s skin.

“I don’t know,” Yuuri murmured after a while when he finally gets his bearings, “I guess I see it as proof? A reminder that I actually made it.” His lips quirked slightly, and Viktor stayed silent, still focused on the rhythm of the gun. His silence only goaded Yuuri to speak more, albeit a little awkwardly. 

“What better reminder than a permanent one?” He laughed nervously and shrugged with his free shoulder. “In the future, when I’m not competing anymore, I guess it’ll just be a reminder of what I used to be able to do.”

There was an odd intimacy in this--Viktor’s hands on his skin as he set upon a permanent mark on Yuuri. The gentleness of his hand on Yuuri’s bicep as he stretched and kept the skin still was such an odd juxtaposition to the dull pain of the tattoo gun itself. Watching Viktor in his element did things to the insides of Yuuri’s stomach, and he found it hard to watch. Not because of the blood that came every now and then, Yuuri had never been squeamish, not with how often skating abused his feet and left them bruised and bloody. No, because of the intensity in Viktor’s gaze, as if he was seeing through Yuuri’s skin and into his very being.

“I watched some of your performances,” Viktor murmured and Yuuri blinked. His face reddened and he ducked his head, grimacing slightly at the thought that Viktor may have watched the performances that Yuuri was less than proud of. God, what if Viktor saw his Lohengrin performance for the Cup of China? He cringed.

“You’re very good,” Viktor said easily, oblivious to Yuuri’s inner turmoil.

“Oh,” Yuuri said in surprise, his blush turning from embarrassed to a mix of flustered and flattered--

“I mean, your technical can do a little work and your jumps are sloppy, your spins could do better--”

Yuuri’s head dropped, a whimper spilling from his lips and Viktor looked up, chuckling slightly as he pulled the tattoo gun away. His eyes crinkled from above the surgical mask and Yuuri could tell that he was smiling underneath.

“But your step sequences...” Viktor sighed blissfully before shaking his head. “I’ve never seen anything like it. Absolutely beautiful. Your musicality and your performance is amazing.”

Yuuri’s eyes widened. He looked away to hide his smile and Viktor giggled before he focused his attention back to Yuuri’s arm.

“Do you follow figure skating then?” Yuuri asked, “You seem to know a lot about it.”

Viktor stilled.

“Yeah. You can say that.” He said stiffly, voice cool. All the warmth that had previously wrapped around his voice had bled out, leaving Yuuri feeling even more awkward. He coughed and frowned as Viktor’s eyebrows furrowed.

What did he say wrong?

The rest of the session passed by relatively quietly. Yuuri was glad that the design he had settled on was simple and without color. The simple black rings had only taken Viktor less than an hour to finish. The pain had come back at times, just as sharp as it was in the beginning, but after a few deep breaths, it had faded back into the background until Yuuri felt nothing.

Yuuri came to when Viktor pulled the tattoo gun away a final time. He blinked, and then winced as Viktor wiped away the blood and the ink.

“Do you want to take a picture before I put ointment on it?” Viktor asked, voice civil and friendly enough.

“Oh, no, it’s okay,” Yuuri replied. Viktor simply nodded before he started on the process of dressing and bandaging up the newly tattooed skin.

“There,” Viktor murmured. He pulled away and pulled the mask down to smile at Yuuri, a little strained. “Just make sure to follow the aftercare instructions, alright?”

Yuuri nodded and bit his lip, clenching his fist slightly. “I--whatever I said to offend you, I’m sorry,” he murmured, wincing slightly. Viktor looked up at him in surprise and then relaxed slightly to smile at him again.

“No, it’s nothing,” Viktor said easily. He peeled off the black gloves he had been wearing ever since Yuuri sat down, revealing the snowflake tattoo on his wrist that momentarily caught Yuuri’s attention again. Viktor hesitated for a moment before he stuck his hand into his pocket. “Here,” he said as he pulled out his hand to push a scrap of paper at him. “My number.”

Yuuri’s eyes widened and he looked down, ready for the punchline. There wasn’t any, just Viktor’s messy handwriting.

“If you have any questions on tattoo aftercare, or _anything_ , don’t hesitate to text or call.” Viktor eyed him, a hopeful gleam to his eyes and Yuuri swallowed. He nodded, looking away. Of course it was just for aftercare problems.

“I will,” he said quietly.

Viktor cleared his throat and Yuuri looked back up at him. There was a slight flush to Viktor’s cheeks.

“You should come back in two weeks so I can see if it’s healing properly.”

Yuuri nodded obediently. The instructions of aftercare that Viktor had left him were burned into his mind. He was sure that it wouldn’t be a problem.

 

*

 

Wash with lukewarm water and mild soap. Pat dry with paper towel. Leave to air dry for 20 minutes. Apply ointment until it starts to peel and then switch to regular lotion. Repeat three times a day and make sure to wear loose clothes over it and keep it out of sunlight. Don’t scratch or pick at the scabs and let it dry and fall naturally.

Come day 7, the tattoo had started to peel and scab bit by bit. Yuuri had a bad habit of picking at his scabs, and it had gotten to the point that the urge was so strong that Yuuri wore his figure skating gloves even outside the rink. Thankfully, by day 10, most of the scabs were gone and the tattoo looked mostly healed already.

The whole time, Yuuri hadn’t bothered calling. He hadn’t wanted to bother Viktor with his little problems when google existed.

However by the second week mark, Yuuri found himself passing through Viktor’s magic doorway, crossing countries in a step with only a mild disorientation throwing him off, anticipation running through his veins.

Viktor looked up at the flash of light and the accompanying tinkle of bells. A mix of emotions passed through his face--surprise, happiness, and something else that Yuuri couldn’t quite name.

“Yuuri!” Viktor greeted with a smile.

Yuuri smiled shyly and walked over to Viktor. He rubbed the back of his head and Viktor’s eyes immediately went to his bicep to look at his tattoo.

“Let me check?” Viktor asked and Yuuri nodded as he walked over. Viktor looked at it with a critical eye and hummed, touching the edge slightly. Yuuri couldn’t help but shiver at the warmth.

“It looks fine to me,” Viktor quipped as he pulled his hand away and Yuuri sighed in relief. It had looked fine to him too, but he couldn’t help but worry anyway that he had still managed to fuck up.

“I…” Viktor trailed off slightly, the hesitance in his voice clear enough to make Yuuri look up in concern. Viktor smiled sheepishly, an endearing heart-shape that sent Yuuri’s own heart aflutter. “You actually didn’t need to come back so I could check if it healed properly.”

Yuuri blinked and then frowned. Viktor laughed and tilted his head to wink at him.

“I just wanted to see you again.”

“Oh,” Yuuri squeaked, reddening slightly. _Oh._

Viktor opened his mouth and then closed it, a mischievous twist to his lips but Yuuri quickly cut him off before he could say anything.

“Maybe you should have just asked me out on a date then,” he said boldly and then promptly turned red once more at his own audacity. Viktor gaped, mouth falling open rather unattractively as he stared at Yuuri in awe.

He quickly shut his mouth, a wide smile replacing his gobsmacked expression.

“Would you like to go on a date with me then?”

Flustered, all Yuuri could do was nod.

**Author's Note:**

> if i need to add more tags, please let me know! thank you! part 2 will be up tomorrow :-)
> 
> check out my [tumblr](https://gia-comeatme.tumblr.com/) and say hi!!
> 
> spoilery warnings for part 2:
> 
> -dub-con body modification/tattoo removal  
> -non-con memory modification


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